A Sailor's Refrain
by S.R. Sinclairs
Summary: "Mr. Lightoller, I feel you should smile more often," the young woman smiled fondly at what she first thought of stiffest man and most stern officer aboard Titanic. Charles Lightoller gives an awe-struck look at the rather peculiar woman before wrapping his calloused fingers around hers, and looking towards the horizon, with only vowed freedom lying at the other side of the ocean.
1. Preface

**FULL SUMMARY:**

She was a free spirit, controversial beyond all measure in the society and institution she was raised in. She was a runaway, by all definitions of the word. The young Lady Maureen Haley-Lancaster, the disowned youngest of the Earl of Lancaster, finds herself in a new adventure; this time, as a renowned physician aboard the finest ship in the world, with only freedom lying across the other end of the Atlantic.

He began as a boy who defied all odds, who ended up becoming a man of utter resilience and baptized with the oils of struggle. Charles Lightoller, despite his unlucky run-ins with the perilous sea throughout his career as an officer, boards the Titanic on April 10, 1912 with very little regard for whatever lies ahead. Little does he know that the sea would threaten to change his life once more, in the strangest and yet, endearing way.


	2. Chapter 1: The House of Lancaster

Chapter 1: The House of Lancaster

The ticking of the old wooden clock at the corner of the room was starting to get bothersome for the already anxiety-stricken woman pacing back and forth the same space on the carpet, for the past fifteen minutes. The light peers through the thick glass windows and royal blue ceiling curtains, thus, slightly illuminating the drawing room and giving it a subtle warmth. The young lady slightly picks at her gown, feeling its corset tightening with every fearful breath she took, she momentarily looks at the towering book shelves, filled with antique books probably about her family history. How she found herself to be locked in here waiting for the next verbal beating from her father, she probably couldn't remember, as she was so riddled with fear that she even refuses to look at the powerful and austere image of her great grandfather, the war-decorated previous Earl of Lancaster, from three generations ago. She might as well just relieve herself of her breakfast taken late, at about half past noon, before peering at the eyes of the honorable and iconic man of her family.

The servants of the proud have always gossiped about how the manor seemed imposing, and that it looked more like a hermit's cave rather than a home - how their masters managed to raise five bright children within the lonely thick walls of the family castle, they didn't quite know. Some of the households have been with the family for generations, and while they found the children to be rather active youngsters, they could not help but feel a twinge of pity for the young ones, given that they were banned from ever setting foot outside the family estate, and playing with other children their age. Without a doubt, they were bright children, but one couldn't help but notice how lonely they always seemed to be. Their masters have showered their children with all the fine things in the world from the most expensive of books and toy swords for the boys to the most luxurious doll houses and dresses for the were well looked-after, with the servants heeding to their every beck and call, and their parents to educate them on proper society life. The men, of course, were to take over the age-long family business of handcrafting rifles and formulating gun powder for the nobility's leisure and the military's campaign in other parts of the world. Whereas, the women were to become wives of the wealthiest men, closest to the King's personal radar.

The house of Lancaster is one of the most ancient lines in England, dating back to the 13th century. The Lancasters were always associated with their fierce support of military excursions and their direct involvement in the Tudor Dynasty, and that meant, they were forces of the crown that are never to be trifled with. They had once held the blood of monarchs, and they were proud of being one of the most distinguished families in all of Britain.

No spot would ever tarnish their name ever so associated with nobility, and the right to rule.

The great oak doors of the study swing open with a loud whine and a slight bang. A shadow finds itself walking into the room, with all the anger there is to be ever held in the heart of a single man. "Maureen, what on earth has gotten into that bloody head of yours?" The woman looks up from her pacing, and jumps at the sound of her father.

"But, Father-"

The man cuts her off brashly, ignoring the whimper of his youngest, at the sight of his eyes practically raging, "Do you have any idea what impact this would have on our family? We sent you to university to learn the proper ways of being a woman in this age, not to become some low-life servant like your-"

"It's called a physician, Papa!" Maureen interrupts, breaking out into a sort of childishness at the mention of what she used to call her father when she was younger, with a lone tear running down her cheek, tainting her olive skin, with the marks of sadness at the thought of ever dishonoring her family. Wiping away the tear roughly with the back of her hand, she takes a deep breath before straightening her back and looking at her father. She was a Lancaster, even by this little act of her demonstrating her firmness in her decision. "Papa, I want to be just like her, no matter what you say. There was a little girl in the clinic and she just had a bout of cholera, Papa, if you could only see what doctors like us do for her people-"

"And what or _our _people here, Maureen? Our family? If the Duke finds out of such an atrocity: a fine young woman toiling away at some dirt cottage, we'll be damned. I have no daughter who slaves away for others. You are Maureen Haley-Lancaster, my youngest daughter. I have sworn to protect our family name from all the hardships of the world, and you will obey me," the Earl Haley-Lancaster, otherwise known as Richard by his brandy and cigar cronies, spits. "Tomorrow, we shall go to the commission, and we'll have your license revoked. I supposed twenty pounds will do it for them to have it settled."

"No, Papa! Please don't do such a horrid thing!" Maureen pulled at her father's retreating figure, in vain, as the man clenched his jaw in utter exasperation. "Papa, please," she pulled hard enough to make Richard face her, eyes full of tears and lip quivering in hope for mercy. All those ten years, for nothing. Within minutes, she will be throwing away her passion, her life's work, her profession - everything that at the very least made her happy within the walls of the damp manor that sat atop a hill on Lancashire, imposing its power on anyone who dared to look at it with complacency. Her family was obsessed with power, it was a known fact Maureen had begun to learn to swallow from a young age.

Seeing her father's muted gaze, Maureen bites her lip slightly in determination, and says, "What should I do, Papa?" A list ditch effort. A final beg. Today had begun as an ordinary day in a country clinic, with her tending to her regular patients, and checking up on them, after her courageous sneaking out of the manor after breakfast, and now, with her father's butler having followed her to her clinic, she was now at the brink of losing her physician license - never to see the cheery old Mr. Smith with his aching legs anymore, or little Cora who is just beginning to recover from cholera, all those wonderful lives she had the honor of meeting, almost gone, forever.

Richard Haley-Lancaster stared at his all but wailing and kneeling daughter in disdain, and shakes his head, "So long as you live in this house, Maureen, you will never be allowed to live a life of a lowly servant. We are royalty. And you will not be allowed to toy with that claim of ours."

Maureen looked on in horror, and, with whatever little courage she had left to stood up to the man who she called father, ran from the drawing room and down the corridor to her room, bumping into Nanny Frieda in the process. Her former nursemaid all but gasped at the sight of her young mistress, crying, and wrapped her in her arms, gently rocking her, as she has done before years ago. The aging woman pulled away some bright gray her that fell into her face when Maureen had almost knocked her over as she was cleaning the vases in the corridor. She put a slightly wrinkled and rosy hand on her mistress's cheek and urged her to look up, "I'm so sorry child. I should've been more vigilant of Ellie, you know he probably just followed you to make sure you were safe. I do hope you're not terribly upset with him," She smoothed the black hair of her master's youngest daughter.

From when she was a child, the pair of Maureen and Nanny Frieda have been so strong, that even during shooting afternoons with her family and picnic afterwards, Maureen would break social conventions and allow her nursemaid to sit and eat with them - this was frowned upon by her father, of course, but she didn't care. "Nana, can you please pack all my things? I think I need a breather. Away from here."

"But where will you go?"

"There is an opening for a job as a physician on the White Star Line, young mistress," A voice rang out from behind them. Turning around, she is met by the sight of a redhead with freckles dotting the line of her cheeks and wearing a maid's uniform.

"Brigette, but how?"

"A distant cousin of mine, Charles Lightoller is an officer there. Currently he's taking charge of all new crew members and running the first officer rank on the Titanic's sea trials at Belfast," the servant answered meekly. For what felt like an eternity of heartbreak in the drawing room she had just run away from, she felt her heart slightly mending together by a thread of hope. "You'd do wonderful, miss. It would be a shame for you to always cage yourself in here."

"The Titanic? My, isn't that the newest liner of the White Star Line?" Maureen looked between her two confidants in the house, in awe. Frieda held onto her Maureen's hands. "Lass, it's known as the ship of dreams, and it's headed for New York in April." Brigette and Frieda exchanged a warm grin at the look of Maureen slightly smiling in hope, lips quirked slightly up, and eyes brightening up. "However, lass, it'd be a heartbreak for us to see you go."

"But Brigette, Nana Frieda, you know I've always wanted to see the world, right? And see what lies beyond the ocean!" Maureen walked towards the window, notably looking at the river running through the meadows of Lancashire. The river would most likely lead to the ocean, where the world awaited. "Think of it as another adventure. No, wait. My first adventure!"

Seeing their young lady smile like that after the turbulent conversation down the hall with her father, they chortled in amusement. It had been a long time since Maureen had smiled like that, so full of joy and excitement - the last instance being Maureen's acceptance into medical school. "Mistress, alright. We'll take you over to Belfast."

From that moment on, Maureen looked on at her new lease on life - refusing to become a pawn of the Lancasters and finally chasing after what is rightfully hers. The sun seemed to agree with her, as she bathed in the noon sunlight of the English countryside, as if the gods have blessed her decision to go forth into the life at sea. After all, with this stuffy old manor, she thought, she had absolutely nothing to lose.

* * *

That evening, in the dead of the cold of the English countryside in April, there was not a breath of wind. With the last piece of clothing packed in her bag, Maureen saw to tiptoe through the mansion, in hopes of getting out, without getting seen by her siblings, the other servants, or worse, her father. There was hardly any light in the hallway, with only the faint of the moonlight guiding her to the foyer. As one who would be leaving home for the first time, Maureen looked around, as if taking in the sight of her family home, one last time - it was not like she was going to miss it, or anything of that sentimental matter. The house was, indeed, full of memories, with her brothers and sisters, the joys of an otherwise content and well-off family, however, the youngest of the Hayley-Lancasters always felt that there was something missing, something similar to a warm hearth but hardly any firewood at all to keep it going through the night.

There was a certain complacency in the Lancaster culture and tradition that seemed to irk Maureen and since her childhood, she had consistently taken notice of how she feared the thought of being "royalty", as her father claimed. The house of Lancaster had no more rightful claim to the English throne, with the abundance of illegitimate descents appearing in her family tree as far as history was concerned, and they were nothing more but a guardian of the land of Lancashire for the Crown. However, Maureen's father had his head stuffed with the madness of "restoring" the glory of the Lancasters as if their honor had been stolen away by usurper politicians and businessmen.

Hence, Maureen and her sisters have been fiercely guarded from the possibility of getting involved with those who were not worthy to make dealings with the family. They have always been under close watch and friendships and engagements were all part of an elaborate set up made by the mad house. There was absolutely no room for child's play, or puppy love or whatever there is inconsistent with the philosophies and ambitions of the family.

Everything has always been so rehearsed. So rigid.

It was tormenting. And this was probably her only way out of it all.

Maureen pulled the hood over her jet black crown, and made for the door. Turning around, taking one last look of the empty foyer dotted with marble floors, intricate portraits, and the imposing golden chandelier, she bid goodbye to her home and set a course for the dead of the night, jumping into the abyss. She walked towards the town proper, making sure to never stop for anything or anyone, given the dangers of being a woman walking around at such a delicate time. Although she knew how to fight, being so much more boyish and outspoken than her sisters, she simply couldn't risk the thought of getting into trouble with the commotion - if anyone saw who she was, she'd be taken back to the manor, never to see or feel the green grass on her bare feet ever again - her freedom, taken completely away.

Getting to the town, she hailed a carriage, and mentioned, "To Fleetwood."


	3. Chapter 2: Fleetwood

Chapter 2: Fleetwood

It had been a long journey, it was only through the 8 hours of being on the road, without food or water and all my money and heavy possessions from the family safe that I had realized how big England was. I had only been outside Chorley for at most three times, usually when I was accompanying Katherine, my eldest sister who was currently planning for her wedding to a wealthy businessman named Caldwell, to her future in-laws's home to discuss some "important matters". Honestly, I think that's simply a new alibi for her to get out of the manor, and have afternoon tea at the Caldwells' "fabulous" resort not a few miles away from Yorkshire.

I checked my pocket watch. _7:00._

Tucking away my pocket watch back into my breast pocket, I looked out my window to see humble homes not standing more than 2 stories being roused by the distant rumbles of ship horns from the harbour. My eyes widened in awe as I saw people hurrying back and forth the shops littering the harbour village, going about their daily lives which seemed so much more colorful than my life of black and grey - save for the occasional hues that find themselves in my heart when I serve at the local clinic. I marveled at the sight of shops opening, and neighbors greeting each other cheerfully. "It's lovely isn't it?" The coachman had put down the screen separating me from him, and the scent of the wild sea washed over me, and right then and there, I could feel some tears start to form in my eyes. "I use' to live ere' with me mum and da', it's a lively town ye it is."

"I could see that," I looked out of the window once more and giggled a bit as I saw children running up the street with a fish in hand, with a rather buff old man trailing behind them yelling at them to come back. "Has it always been this way?" I inquired thoughtfully. "It isn't like this over in Chorley."

"Aye, Ma'am - there is a diff'rent life in Chorley. People are happy there too, miss. I live there myself, perhaps you haven't gone out as much?" The coachman made a turn towards the direction of the harbor, which contained only one ship, for today, and it seemed like this would be the loading ship for the officers and crew. "Not to intrude or anything, Ma'am."

"I've never really been outside of the manor," I sighed almost wistfully. "This is my first time to travel alone."

"Manor? Well, I'll be," I could hear the smile and unquestionable wonder in the voice of the coachman. With that, I swear, upon the angels, I felt my cheeks flush, "There's only one manor in Chorley, Ma'am. You're the Lady Hayley-Lancaster, aren't ya? Wha' brings ya o'er to Fleetwood?" I took a breath before he interrupted me. "'Ere to get an early ticket to the Titanic, Ma'am? I heard the WSL was in headquarters here in Fleetwood for the time being, before they depart for Belfast. Although, I understan' that First Class passengers only boar' and get 'em tickets in Southampton by next week or so."

"Oh no," I chuckled lightly as I checked my belongings to see if everything was in order. "I'm the 3rd Lady Hayley-Lancaster. And I'm here to apply for work." I gleamed when I took out my physician's license and dusted it, and watched the golden seal glitter momentarily as light bounced right off it. I noticed that he had halted to a stop near the building that Brigette told me would be the headquarters of the Titanic. I stepped out and all but stumbled and fell to the ground as I was overwhelmed by the weight of my trunk, landing with an "Oof!"

"I've got it, Miss!" It was only now that I noticed that the coachman I've been talking to has been just a mere boy, no older probably than 15. He took of his brown cap, revealing his sandy blonde hair. His face is riddled with burns, probably from the sun, as he spends most of his time on the road. A twinge of worry struck me to think of but a boy who would wander the streets, with no company to fend him off from road scoundrels. "Here ya go, milady," He handed me my trunk, readjusting its bronze handle. "Ah," He trailed off as he took notice of my dumbfounded expression. "I'll jus' bring it inside."

"No, it's alright lad," I said quietly. "Here's your purse," I reached into my coat pocket and gave him a black purse filled with no more than 30 pounds. "I put in an extra 10 pounds in that. Go get yourself a hot meal down town." He smiled toothily at me as he accepted the purse, he shook it a bit in glee towards his ear, and spoke.

"My, this is the heaviest purse I've ever gotten! Thank you milady!" He tipped his hat, and bowed to me graciously, causing me to squirm a little. I never really liked it when people would treat me as if I were above them. I didn't really buy into that philosophy most high society folk had concocted. For me, it was just nothing short of preposterous.

"It's all good," I thanked him again, as I grabbed onto the bronze handle of my trunk. As the boy drove away, I waved him a goodbye, and whispered a small prayer under my breath for his safe travel._ 'How curious it must be - to live a life, without trappings, yet still so happy and full of life,'_ I thought as I saw how the boy seemed very optimistic for one of his social standing; his disposition was quite skewed from what Papa told me - that those beneath us were miserable, and just plain pathetic. I didn't take his word for it, though. Quite gladly, too - the coachman that I have spent the last eight hours with was nothing short of hospitable and kind and nothing of the sort Papa makes him to be. "Ah, well, that's that."

Taking a deep breath, I lifted the trunk - well, dragged really - and made towards the building situated near the loading area of the harbor. I was about halfway through the harbour's promenade, when the bronze handle broke off, probably because I was holding my trunk in an awkward fashion. "Damn!" I cursed, under my breath, that I could clearly see in the air as I talk or breathe due to the cold air the sea was hitting the shore with. I plopped down my trunk on the ground, under the heat of the morning sun, and sat on it, as I caught my breath. "Stupid thing," I kicked the trunk with my shoe. "How ever am I going to make it on that ship when I can't even get to my interview?" I bit my lip in deep thought as to how I can move the blasted thing.

I looked around at the almost empty promenade, save for a few shipyard workers and some of the crew from the esteemed ship judging from their uniforms, and made notice of how hurriedly they were working, as if they were panicking over some technicalities and the overwhelming emotions of finally leaving for Belfast to take the Titanic to sea in a few days. I glanced over to one of the fences from the shipyard, and noted that there was a rope. "That's it!" I broke into a half run towards the rope, determined to be kept unseen from the officers, and hurried back to my trunk. I tied the rope around my suitcase and fashioned myself a makeshift trolley - I pulled on the rope and sighed in relief as I saw my trunk follow with its movement. I dragged my trunk over to the steps of the building and rested for a bit, taking off my coat, despite the cold, to help me stop from overheating. "When ever am I going to learn to travel light?"

"You alright there, Miss?" A voice asked from behind me, as I sat on the steps of the building. I whipped around to see a rather tall man, probably no older than 30, with brown hair, calm yet fiery blue eyes, slightly sun-kissed skin yet still very much pale from the British weather. He stood tall in his uniform, similar to some of the officers I saw working on the shipyard, and looked at me questioningly. Suddenly, another officer appeared from behind him - this time, a slightly shorter young man with brown eyes and a rather full yet structured face - he had a commanding yet kinder presence than the first officer.

"Well, Lights, I'll be off," He said as he walked towards the harbor. "Be sure to board by-"

"Half past nine, yes," The man called 'Lights' responded. "Miss?" He asked again.

"Ah, yes?" I blinked at him, almost dumbfoundedly. I was utterly exhausted and hungry thus, my attention span was waning a tad bit. He raised his eyebrows at me, expectantly. "Oh, uh, yes, sir! Quite alright," I answered quickly, mentally cursing myself. I must look like a lost rabbit, except, I'm this close to getting turned into rabbit meat. I hurriedly stood up, and introduced myself, "I uh, I'm Maureen..." I took a deep breath. "I'm Maureen Hayley-Lancaster, and I'm looking for," I took out the note Brigette wrote for me containing a list of instructions as to how to apply for a post on the Titanic as a physician. "Second Officer...Lightoller." He kept looking at me. "Which...must be you...since...your colleague called you...er, Lights."

_I swear to the heavens, I'm turning redder than an apple. _

"Yes, indeed," He confirmed. He looked utterly exhausted too, I'm guessing from all the preparations the officers were doing. "How may I be of assistance to you, Miss Lancaster?" I blinked, yet again, at the sound of him not showing any interest at all, at my family name. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that yet. "You do realize that we won't be boarding for First Class passengers 'till we depart for Belfast, at the sea trials, and then to Southampton. You'll find yourself just a bit too early to come over to the office, Miss." He took a deep exasperated breath before continuing. "And no, you cannot purchase tickets here, we've stopped operations of pre-selling tickets in Fleetwood."

"Ah, no, sir," I pulled out my medical license from my carry-on suitcase, and my application form. "I was actually going to apply for a position as a physician on the ship. I was very much lucky to catch you, before you departed for Belfast, really." His gloved hand reached for my medical license and looking at me from top to bottom, he nodded.

"I see." He studied my medical license, for a short while before giving it back. "Well, I regret to inform you, Miss Lancaster, that we're a tad bit full in the clinic. We've already interviewed at least five doctors, and I assure you, just by your apparent youth, that the White Star Line would favour more _experienced _doctors."

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously.

"Miss, I really don't have the time," He shook his head, and clicked his tongue, irritably. "If you want, you could apply as a nurse," He tried to offer and reason with me. However, if there was one thing my family hated about me, it was my temper and my stubborn attitude.

"What?" I was livid at this point, my ears were literally heating up with anger and disgust. I was now beginning to wonder how sweet red-haired Brigette was related to this sexist, and judgmental wanker. "Mr. Lightoller, please. I've come a long way, I've been on the road since yesterday evening, and all I have as consolation is a misogynistic remark?" I paused for a bit. "And must I say, Mr. Lightoller, that I am a licensed doctor that has gone through at least ten years in the finest medical school in London?" In no less than two minutes and hardly any response from the Second Officer, we were in a screaming match, and probably drawing unwanted attention from the people in the vicinity.

"Miss Lancaster-" He tried, only causing me to interrupt him, and thus, making him finally snap and raise his voice at me. "Miss Lancaster!" I shut up for a bit to look him in the eye, which was now obviously grown tired of my antics. "I'm really sorry but I must get going. However, our offer still stands, you can inquire inside for that." He gestured towards the doors behind him. "Had you come a bit earlier, I might have considered you. Now, we're just in a bit of a hurry to get things going for the voyage, and frankly, we might not have enough room for another physician."

"Mr. Lightoller, I can sleep on the boat deck, for all I care," I reasoned. "Please."

"Miss, I'd prefer you wouldn't-"

"Charles!" Someone called from across the harbor, also wearing the same shade of uniform as the infuriating man beside me. "Come here, quickly! It's Lowe! He's passed out cold!" Before I could even stop myself, I spoke.

"I can help, sir."


End file.
